Asleep
by Mrs. Handsome
Summary: Draco found himself on his bed once again, waiting for the tears. This time they came. There still remained an incessant feeling of loss that emptied him of all thoughts, and instead replaced it with pain. This time, it was different when he fell asleep. Because this time...he wasn't entirely sure he'd have the strength to wake up. One-shot. Inspired by "Asleep" by the Smiths.


""_Avada Kedavra_..." The flash of green light illuminated every corner of the room. Charity fell, with a resounding crash, onto the table below, which trembled and creaked. Several of the Death Eaters leapt back in their chairs. Draco fell out of his onto the floor. "Dinner, Nagini." Said Voldemort softly, and the great snake swayed and slithered from his shoulders onto the polished wood."

Narcissa Malfoy looked over at her son worriedly. "Draco, are you alright?"

The Death Eaters around the table were all jeering and laughing wildly, ignoring the giant snake devouring Professor Burbage upon it.

Snape watched him as well, an unfathomable expression gracing his sallow features. "Draco?" He regarded him sharply, seemingly without concern.

The pale, frightened boy attempted to gather his composure, grasping the seat of his chair and pulling himself up. Once seated, he gulped. Everyone was watching.

"Having fun...Draco?"

He turned to look up at the head of the table, where he father belonged. Refusing to look into those blood-red eyes, and instead focusing on the snake-like slit of his nose, and the thin, cracked lips; he couldn't find the proper words. He felt a warm, comforting hand on his thigh before the tears could fall.

"I...I just...just lost my balance...My Lord..." Draco stuttered, dropping his hands into his lap carefully. "I was, I...admit, a bit..." he swallowed. "Disgusted by the presence of such a blood-traitor, and her proximity to myself..."

Voldemort's lip curled, and the Death Eaters busted into laugher, Bellatrix being the loudest of the bunch. "Spoken like a true Pureblood, Draco." Voldemort said finally, engaging the Death Eaters into conversation.

Draco was breathing heavily now, the revolting image of Charity Burbage flashing in his mind. He felt Narcissa's soft touch once more, as she intertwined her fingers with his. Stealing a glance at her for a moment, he began to notice the greyish tinge of her normally impeccable skin, as well as the wrinkles that settled by her lips; painted crimson red. Her blonde hair, usually kept in exquisite, smooth curls, was now stringy and lay flat against the arch of her back.

He'd never really thought about it until then, but his mother had always been quite a striking woman, much expected from the Black's descent.

She squeezed his hand and he met her gaze once more, feeling an almost sickening lurch of the stomach as she gave him a tentative smile. The smile did not meet her eyes.

* * *

"Draco."

He turned around instantly, the sound of his mother's voice soothing his thoughts.

"It will get better, Draco." This time her voice was lenient, pleading almost. It irked him for some reason. Draco hated being pitied.

"Once this is all over..." she trailed off. There was no solace in her words now, and he knew it. She knew it too. Only silence remained.

* * *

Night was always Draco's favorite time of the day. It meant solidarity in the Malfoy household. The Dark Lord and the rest of the Death Eaters had all left, except for Bellatrix Lestrange, who resided in the Manor ever since Rodolphus' death.

Draco's room was very large, despite the emptiness it held. He remembered as a first year, adorning his room in Slytherin house's silver and green; and posting dozens of Quidditch posters about the walls.

But, as he grew older, the room was empty of its many decorations, and Draco insisted for it to be painted black. He had no favourite colour, but black suited him just fine. The shadows tended to blend in quite nicely with his walls, and at night, the emptying room mirrored the small sounds of life outside.

Draco was lying on his bed, his black jacket, vest, and tie hung neatly on a hanger in his closet, and his hands clasped tightly atop his bare chest. He could just hear those small noises in the silence of his room as he lay, simply waiting for the tears to fall. His breaths came in slow, long torturous heaves of his chest, and he relished the soft beating of his heart against the palm of his hand.

It seemed to be a ritual, every night. Waiting for the tears that never came. Unless of course, they were beaten out of him first.

He noticed footsteps nearing the door of his room, and he stood, grimacing at the way his black trousers hung loosely about his waist. He'd lost weight, hadn't he? He would have looked sickly if it weren't for the slight glint in his grey eyes. A glimmer of hope, that Draco, himself, had no desire to partake in.

There was a sharp knock at his door, followed by a low cough. 'She needn't knock...' he thought. She was always there, wasn't she? He could only seek consolation in her; no one else. But this time, as he opened the door, there was no smile at all.

Narcissa embraced him quietly, pressing him close. He could feel the wetness of her cheeks. "What's the matter?" he whispered.

She pulled away briskly, with a watery smile. "Nothing, darling...you've just gotten so tall..." Her hands were on his shoulders, as if she were attempting to steady him, and her voice shook terribly.

"I...I...think I'm going to sleep now, Mother..." He gently removed her hands from his shoulders, and smiled weakly.

Narcissa nodded, equally fragile. "Goodnight, Draco...I love you."

"I love you too, Mother..."

And the door closed shut.

Draco found himself on his bed once again, waiting for the tears. This time they came. And this time he didn't feel like trying. There still remained an incessant feeling of loss that emptied him of all thoughts, and instead replaced it with pain. This time, it was different when he fell asleep. Because this time...he wasn't entirely sure he'd have the strength to wake up.

* * *

**Author's Note-** Hello! I hope you enjoyed this little one-shot. :) For all you readers coming from Runaway Redemption, sorry I've taken so long to post this; I've been quite sick for a couple days. By the way, I don't own the first quote, it's from Deathly Hallows; the first chapter, I believe. Hmm...*tries to think of something witty to say*...Um...Yeah, get back to me tomorrow, I think I'm too tired to come up with anything funny. So...bye! .-.

...So, I completely forgot to tell you that you should definitely read this (if you haven't already) while listening to Asleep, by the Smiths. It's a wonderful, sad kind of song that I listened to while writing this. I think you can truly understand it if you've heard the song, or at least in my opinion. I would have included the lyrics in this, but I'm pretty sure that's some kind of copyright infringement here, so...yeah! Please do tell me if you listen to the Smiths, it was a really great band and I'm always on the lookout for others that do. :)


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